


Calm, Cool, and Collected

by ThePrettyTomboy



Series: Carolina Appreciation Week [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Carolina Appreciation Week, F/M, Implied Relationships, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 08:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2422562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePrettyTomboy/pseuds/ThePrettyTomboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of an altercation between Carolina and South.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calm, Cool, and Collected

**Author's Note:**

> Eh, y'all know the drill. Spoilers, be caught up I guess.
> 
> Another installment for Carolina Appreciation Week. You can't stop me, I'm on a roll.

          The punching bag rattles on its chain as Carolina strikes it again and again, grunting with each impact of hand or foot, sweat soaking her clothes and causing her hair to stick to her forehead. Left hook, front snap, cross-counter, roundhouse, one right after another with nary a pause. She shifts her balance with ease, dancing around her target as she beats it into oblivion. Her focus is so complete that she doesn’t hear the approaching footsteps that herald the hand on her shoulder, and instinct sends its owner flat to his back on the floor.

          York groans as he sits up, rubbing his neck and looking up at Carolina with a pained, lopsided grin. “Guess I should’ve seen that one coming.”

          “Sorry,” Carolina replies, offering York her hand and pulling him to his feet. She meets his gaze for a moment before turning away, shoulders slumped, and asking, “How is she?”

          “Still complaining,” he says. He jerks his head in the direction of the medical bay. “They said she might have a real shiner for a while, but I’m sure she’ll get over it.” York reaches out and brushes his fingertips against Carolina’s jaw, which is blooming with color that shouldn’t be there. “Are you gonna be all right?”

          Shrugging, Carolina turns back to the punching bag and buries her fist in the leather. “It’s not the worst I’ve ever had.” The top of her foot connects with its target, stinging the skin and sending a sound smack resounding through the room. “Did you want something?”

          York leans against the wall and watches as Carolina returns to abusing the training equipment. “Do I have to want something to come after you?” He shrinks back at the withering look her green eyes fix on him, holding his hands before himself in supplication. “I just want to make sure we’re cool.”

          Carolina’s head tilts to the side of its own accord and she raises an eyebrow. “Of course. Why wouldn’t we be?”

          “Well,” York says, drawing out the word longer than necessary, “when I pulled you off of South you told me, and I quote, ‘ _I swear to god I will tear off your arms and feed them to you if you do not let go of me.’_ Just wanted to make sure that wasn’t a standing offer.”

          “Oh.” Carolina folds in on herself, refusing to look at York, shying away from the reassuring pat he tries to give her. “I was out of line.”

          Meeting Carolina’s eyes in the mirror in front of them, York responds, a hint of forced humor in his voice. “The way I remember it, she punched you first. She should’ve known she was asking for a fist to the face.”

          “She’s my teammate.”

          York snakes his arms around Carolina’s chest and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Yeah, and?” He digs his fingers into her stomach in an attempt to tickle her, but she doesn’t even budge. “Teammates fight. Especially when we’re living in such close quarters. She’ll get over it,” he promises again. “What about you?”

          Carolina leans back against York and turns her head to look him in the eye. “Her bruise is bigger than mine, right?”

          The grin returns to his face. “Oh yeah.”

          “Then I’ll live.”


End file.
